


Forgiveness

by pinesinthewoods



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: AU, Body Horror, Gen, Grunkle4Grandpa, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Gore, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-31 11:46:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6468955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinesinthewoods/pseuds/pinesinthewoods
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dipper wants to prove himself, and he goes after the Shape-shifter. Stan goes after Dipper. It goes about as well as you might think. NOTE: This story was written pre-ATOTS.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forgiveness

**Author's Note:**

> IMPORTANT NOTE: This was written before A Tale of Two Stans, so this story is now an AU where Stanley is Dipper and Mabel's grandfather. Also Ford is pretty OOC at the beginning (he lightens towards the end). I'm still rather fond of this one, because of Stan and Dipper bonding.

“…But if you just LET me, I can help you catch it. I’ve run across it before!” Dipper protested, watching his mentor mumble to himself and flip through his journal. The Author sat on the creaky rusty bed of the bunker, but didn’t so much as look up at him. “Absolutely not, Dipper. This thing has a multitude of forms, and who knows how dangerous it is at this point…”

  
“ _I_ do, Great Uncle Ford!” Dipper threw his hands up in frustration. Dipper never felt right calling the man “Grunkle” for a multitude of reasons. It was an affectionate term he and Mabel reserved for  _other_  Stan. Stanley. Who he still wasn’t on speaking turns with. Who was now apparently their grandfather. Dipper felt his stomach tighten in anger. The whole Stan identity business made Dipper’s head hurt, and he still wasn’t sure if he fully understood it.  

  
Stanford peered at the boy over his glasses. “No, and that’s final.” He placed the journal on the bed and stood up, his tan trench coat fluttering down around him. Dipper was always envious of that trench coat. He thought Stanford’s whole ensemble was cool. 

  
“Please, I can help-” Dipper began, but the Author rounded on him.

  
“I don’t want to hear another WORD about it,” he snapped, eyes flashing dangerously. “I  _raised_  it from a hatchling, it knows me more than  _anyone_ and I know it more than anyone, so I’m going to correct a mistake I made years ago! And no one else should be hurt because of that mistake. So stop trying to poke around in something  _you know nothing about_!” His voice became a full shout that seemed to ring particularly loud in the eerie silence of the bunker.

  
There was a glint in his eyes Dipper had seen before, and didn’t like at all. There was madness there, madness from his countless years in the portal, from the countless mistakes he made. Dipper took a fearful step back and lowered his gaze.  In moments like this, he wasn’t Dipper’s great uncle, or mentor, he was The Author, gripped only by paranoia and the darkness of the supernatural. There was silence, and Stanford stared at him a moment longer, and then seemed to deflate from his anger, realizing that he had just scared the boy. “I’m going to the control room. Stay here, Dipper.” With that, he turned on his heel and left Dipper in the room by himself.

  
Dipper sat down on the bed, shaking slightly, feeling angry tears beginning to prick his eyes.

  
“I DO know about it,” he whispered bitterly to himself. All those adventures Dipper had during the summer, following clues, saving everyone’s butts, and intently studying the journals about the supernatural, seemed to mean nothing to Stanford. Dipper thought his dreams had come true when Stanford took up mentoring him about the supernatural. But the man was harder to impress then he realized.   
“Well, I’ve already recorded the migration patterns of faeries extensively,” he would say, or “Cursed objects are old news. Here, I’ll dictate and you write down what I’m saying.” 

  
He wouldn’t even let him  _near_  the journals, even though Dipper was the one who added his discoveries about the monsters and their weaknesses! He was frustrated that Stanford would never see him as an equal, and always just as a kid. All he wanted to do was be appreciated by the man he idolized from the moment he first read the journals. 

  
Dipper paused and glanced over to the journal that Stanford had forgotten in his haste. Without thinking it over, he grabbed it, shoved it in his vest and made his way toward the entrance of the caves.

-

Stanford was muttering to himself, bent over the control boards of the specimen tanks, oblivious to his brother as he approached him.   
“What’s going on, Ford?” Stanley asked, eyebrows quirked in slight concern. “I heard shouting… is everything okay?” The bunker was not large; after all, it was built only to accommodate Stanford, but it had enough room to act as a temporary hideout for them to lay low until the Federal agents were off their backs. Stanford barely glanced at him, continuing to fiddle with the controls. 

  
“Yes, yes, everything is fine, the boy and I just had a slight disagreement.”

Stanley tilted his head, now more alert, a feeling of uneasiness formed in his gut. “Yeah? What about?” he grunted. 

  
“Oh, Dipper wanted to help track down the Shape-shifter, I told him absolutely not.”

  
“The Shape-shifter,” Stanley paled considerably at the memories of that thing. “Why are you going after that horror show now?”   
“Because the gravity anomalies that occurred broke it back out of its frozen state, and now it’s only a matter of time before it makes its way to the surface.” 

  
Stanley repressed a shudder at the thought. Then he glanced around the dingy control room. 

  
“Where’s the kid now?”

“He was in the main room with me,” Stanford said distractedly, and felt around in his jacket and frowned. “I left the journal back there anyway.”

They both made their way back to the main entrance, and Stanford stopped in his tracks. “The journal isn’t on the bed. That’s exactly where I left it.”

Stanley felt his blood turn cold. “Dipper took it,” he managed to say.

“Huh?” Stanford glanced at him. “How would you know that?”

“Dipper took it,” Stanley repeated slowly, his voice had an edge of something dangerous. “He took it and he’s going after the Shape-shifter.”

Stanford scoffed, but even he seemed a little less sure of himself. “Nonsense! He’s wouldn’t disobey me like that! I specifically told him not to go!”

“Is that what you were yelling at him about?” Stanley spat out, feeling his blood pressure rise at his brother’s obvious disinterest in Dipper’s whereabouts. “I don’t blame the kid for not speaking to me. Frankly, I deserve it! But he was under your care!”

“I’m not his babysitter, I am his mentor!” Stanford retorted, his own voice rising. “I can’t keep track of him at every moment!”

Stanley tried to keep his voice calm, but honestly, he wanted to punch his brother in the face. “He ran off because he was trying to impress you, because you haven’t been taking him seriously!  Now he’s in the tunnels, god knows where, with one of your crazy scientist experiments!”  
Stanford narrowed his eyes, “Impressing me has nothing to do with this-”

“HE LOOKS UP TO YOU, FORD!” Stanley suddenly exploded, grabbing his brother by the front of his jacket. “Don’t you get it?!  The kid would do _anything_  for your approval! And now, he could be hurt or WORSE!” 

  
Stanford fell silent for the first time, and his face became slightly paler. Stanley took a deep breath, reeling himself back and set his mind on what to do next. “No time… there’s no time. I’m wasting time fighting with a nerd.  The kid’s still out there somewhere. I’m going after him.”   
With that, he made his way to the decontamination room, only pausing to pick up his brother’s rifle that leaned against the wall. “Make sure Soos and Wendy keep Mabel here. Once she gets wind of Dipper being in trouble, she’ll try to go after him. As a matter of fact, make sure all the knuckleheads stay here, I’m not having anyone else’s safety put at risk.” 

  
“Stan, don’t be stupid, you don’t have a plan. The Shape-shifter-”

“ _There’s no more time_ ,” Stanley growled over his shoulder. “I’m bringing him back, Ford.” 

  
There was a woosh as the door opened, and then he was gone to the dark cave beyond.

   
Stanford stood there, eyes wide. "Stan, you idiot,” he whispered, “Oh, Stan, you’re just as bad as the boy.”   
-  
The tunnel sloped cavernously before him, and Dipper’s flashlight bounced ominously off the cave walls. He shivered, the beginnings of trepidation now making their way into his mind.  _Maybe this was a bad idea_ , he thought to himself.  _No_ , he countered.  _I’ve got this. It just wants the journal, right? I just have to lead it back so Stanford can see it and capture it._   Stanford would have noticed the journal was missing by now, and most likely was fuming. Good, let him fume, Dipper thought bitterly. He wanted so badly to impress his new family member. Maybe this would finally do the trick. 

  
Something moved out of the corner of his eye, and he turned toward it. “HEY!” he shouted. 

  
“HEY UGLY!”

“Ah…. my boy, you came back,” a deep creaking voice said. Then the Shape-shifter was there, clinging to the cave wall next to Dipper in its true form. It twisted its head, regarding him curiously through blood red eyes. 

  
Dipper bit back a shriek, and stood his ground, feigning courage. “Yeah, I came back.”

  
It scuttled up the wall, stretching its neck to look at him better. “Why ever would you do a stupid thing like that? I can easily squish your puny mortal body like a grape. Was it because you heard I escaped the prison you captured me in?”

  
Dipper shrugged. “Partly… I’m here on the Author’s orders.”

  
The beast suddenly let out a strange shrieking noise and released the wall, landing on its multiple legs in front of Dipper with a heavy thud.

  
“ _The Author…. Stanford?_ ” it hissed, and its form flickered agitatedly into the Hide-behind, yellow eyes narrowing at him. “You’re lucky boy, I could kill you easily, but you’ve caught my interest.” Then it became what Dipper assumed was Stanford, years ago, much younger looking, standing there in a white lab coat. “Yes,” it mused, in Stanford’s voice. “I felt it. The entire cavern shook, and broke me out of my prison. The Author has returned.” 

  
He glanced back at Dipper who repressed a shudder as the monster’s seemingly human eyes, blinked sideways. 

  
“Take me to him.”

-

  
The boy led the monster back through the labyrinth of tunnels. He felt sweat beading on his forehead, and his throat had become sandpaper dry. The promise of the Author had been enough to entice the creature. He didn’t even need to pull out the journal. 

  
“Why do you want to see the Author?” 

  
“Oh, did you think I wanted to have tea with him and exchange a merry hello?” the Shape-shifter scoffed, motioning down at the Author’s body. “This miserable form is the only thing I saw for  _years_. He kept me in a cage…. unable to leave, treated like an  _animal_ , experimented on. I want revenge for what that six-fingered nerd did to me.” 

  
Dipper paled. “Great Uncle Ford wouldn’t do that… would he?” he muttered mostly to himself, although he knew the answer. The Shape-Shifter turned toward him sharply. 

  
“Did you say… _uncle_?”

“W-What no, I didn’t say-” 

  
The Shape-shifter’s face broke out into a wide, tooth-filled grin that was horrifically unnatural on a human face. “So he’s  _related_  to you!” it laughed. “All this time, and I never realized, but  _of course_ , it makes so much sense now!” Dipper stepped back as its legs stretched long, and suddenly, multiple spider-like legs explodes from its back. 

  
“Oh, this is just as good as having him here,” it hissed, “We’ve played this game before, Dipper my boy, but you’re not going to escape this time.”  
Dipper reached into his pocket and pulled out his flashlight, switching it on in the monster’s face. It screeched and covered its face, as its sensitive cave-dwelling eyes were bombarded with light. While it was distracted, Dipper reached into his backpack and pulled out Wendy’s ax. He swung hard at one of the legs. It hit full force, causing green blood to spew from the wound. The Shape-shifter stumbled, screaming in rage, and Dipper turned tail and ran for his life. 

  
“Come back here!” the voice roared after him. 

  
“Why do they always say that?” Dipper panted to himself, scanning around for possible hiding places. The ax was still clutched in his hand, dripping the monster’s blood. If he could make it back to the laboratory…

Something cold and malleable wrapped around his leg and bashed him into the side of cave. Dipper cried out in pain and surprise, his head ringing from the impact. Dipper was lifted by one leg, dangling upside down like some hopelessly caught bug. He groaned and blinked, eyes focused on what was in front of him. Then he screamed. 

  
_What was this, oh god, what_ … a grotesque cobbled together form, towered above him. The Shape-Shifters oozing white body had stretched itself to its limits, reaching its tendrils toward him. The worst part about this was that faces that Dipper recognized had grown out of it, creating multiple heads like some sort of hydra. He recognized Mabel, Wendy, Soos, Stanford… and they were all talking to him, each head shouting over one another in his friends’ voices. Dipper had the presence of mind to try and block out the noise and swing his ax at the tendril. He cut through it, but another one just took its place and latched onto his leg. The Shape-shifter lifted him up and slammed him into the wall again. Pain laced through his entire body, and he felt the gashes from the rocks begin to bleed.   

  
“Give up, there’s no way out of this one,” laughed Mabel’s voice. But no that’s not Mabel, Dipper had to correct himself. “Completely useless, so weak, couldn’t even escape,” chuckled Wendy. This was  _wrong, wrong, wrong_! He desperately tried to get that stupid tendril off his leg, but he quickly realized that it was a completely hopeless cause. The sounds of his friends’ cruel laughter and mocking rung louder and he just wanted to clamp his hands over ears to make it stop. 

  
“…Dipper!” The thoughts in Dipper’s head screeched to a halt. His name had drifted through the gibbering of the multitude of voices from the abomination, and although distant, it was  _familiar_. 

  
“Dipper!” The voice came louder now, laced with a number of emotions, all fearful, desperate, determined, but  _real_. That beautiful, familiar, annoying voice, rasping and old. The voice who had berated, joked and praised him all summer.   
Dipper raised his head and screamed as loud as he could. “GRUNKLE STAN!” The name tore from him and it took all his energy. He felt a slimy appendage engulf him to smother his speech and he choked, suffocating on the cold slime that surrounded him.   
“Shut up,” the Shape-shifter snarled, turning to where Stan’s voice had come from.

  
A spasm went through Dipper’s body as his airways were cut off, but he couldn’t fight anymore. He waited in the darkness, hoping, _trusting_  Stan would find him. 

  
-

Stan Pines heard his grandson’s scream. The sound of it made him shiver, but he pushed down the horror and unwanted images that played through his head and ran as fast as his old legs would go toward the echoing sound. He rounded the corner and stopped, eyes wide, unsure of what he was looking at for a few seconds. A sickly grey abomination, with heads of people he thought he recognized.  
But suddenly, whatever that creature was, however powerful and dangerous it was, it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter because it had Dipper clutched in a slimy appendage and lifted off the ground. Dipper’s head was entirely engulfed, and he wasn’t fighting back like Stan knew he always did. He was limp, and for a horrifying moment Stan’s mind went to the unthinkable… but then he saw Dipper shiver. Stanley’s horror from the creature melted away and he felt white-hot  _rage_  build. Without another thought, threw the rifle from over his shoulder, and aimed it directly at the monster.   
  
“ _Let go of my grandson_.” He fired the weapon and a blast of cold blue light embedded itself in the Shape-Shifter. It screeched in surprise, its tendril opened, and Dipper fell a good seven feet before he hit the ground with a dull thud. He lay frighteningly still for a moment, then he wheezed, and coughed. His dulled eyes lifted to see Stan, and he blinked in disbelief. “G-Grunkle Stan?” His voice was so broken and scared, and so very very young. His face was black and blue from bruising, and his eyes were red from tears.

  
Stanley tore his gaze with difficulty from Dipper and rested them on the monster.  "It’s me, kid. Just keep still. I’m gettin’ you out of here,“ he said in much calmer way than he felt. The monster was still too close to Dipper for Stan to do anything yet.  The blast wound from the gun slowly began to be covered with an oozing sickly white color.  _It’s using self-regenerative properties to heal itself_ , Stanley thought grimly.

"Stanford?” The Shape-shifter was muttering “No, no, you have five fingers… You must be his twin… Oh, if this isn’t a veritable buffet tonight.” In a sudden swift movement, the hideous form squelched in an almost graceful manner toward him.  That was what he was hoping for. Stan waited for when the Shape-Shifter was nearly on top of him before firing the gun again. The blue laser pierced it, and it let out a cry of anger, swaying in pain. Stanley dodged under it, trying to ignore the disgusting pus-like substance that dripped on him, and rolled out from the other side. Stan skidded to halt and stood up again. He positioned himself protectively in front of Dipper, putting distance between the boy and the Shape-shifter. It growled, and suddenly, its giant blob form condensed and became a copy of himself. “We won’t have any fun as long as you have that gun, Stanford’s brother.” 

  
Stan nearly rolled his eyes. “Oh,  _shut up_ , you festering pile of garbage,” he growled, aiming his weapon.  The Shape-shifter seemed slightly taken aback by Stanley’s aggressiveness, but then grinned again. Stanley’s double held up an arm, and it morphed into an amorphous grey tendril and whipped it toward him. 

  
“Pathetic human, I will have my revenge-” 

  
Stanley shot through its stretching arm, and broke it clean off. It screeched in rage, and continued toward Stanley and Dipper. Stanley reloaded, which required pumping more energy into the blue bubbling liquid in the chamber. He fired again. And again. Each light blue blast caused grey-greenish blood spurted from its wounds. Another blast, but this time, the monster eluded as it shifted into a being entirely made of fire. It continued toward him, and Stanley didn’t pause, and fired again. It hit its mark and the fire seemed to crackle in frustration. Stan readied the rifle for the next attack, and put his finger over the trigger. He blinked and suddenly Dipper was in front of him, cowering, tears spilling down his cheeks.

“Don’t hurt me Grandpa, please don’t hurt me!”

  
Stan jerked violently to a stop. He barely processed what happened when he heard Dipper’s voice from behind him scream, “NO! STAN!”   
There was dark blur of something large and monstrous and then his body slammed into the ground like a rag doll. The gun fell from his grasp and skidded a few feet away, far enough to where Stanley couldn’t reach it. The air was painfully ejected from his lungs as he was pinned, and he looked up through his blurry vision to see the powerful form of the Gremloblin. Stan wanted to curse himself to high heaven, all it took was two seconds of his instincts betraying him, and now the Shape-shifter had him.

“Humans are so predictable,” it laughed, as Stan desperately wheezed for oxygen as he was crushed beneath the weight. For a few moments, it didn’t do anything except grin maliciously at Stan’s increasingly desperate attempts at freedom. Stan realized with dismay that the thing was _enjoying_ this, reveling in his misery. He thought he heard Dipper screaming, but he wasn’t sure, everything was beginning to blur and go dark, and there was a ringing in his ears. 

  
_Oh god, kid, please run, just get out of here_ , he begged silently. If the bastard was going to kill him slowly, Dipper could at least use the time to escape. The Shape-shifter settled more comfortably on him, making sure he was still pinned and began to bend his arm back. Stan couldn’t scream, couldn’t breathe. Unwanted tears spilled from his eyes. The monster was like some sort of grotesque toddler, finally able to play with its prey, and it was going to take its time. “You hurt me with that weapon, I get to hurt you. It’s only fair, don’t you think?”  
Stan heard a crack and his vision went dark for a few moments from pain. He knew his arm was broken, and he knew he was going to die here in this miserable hellhole. He didn’t hear Dipper anymore, and that was his only solace. Maybe Dipper would make it out okay, if this thing had its attention on him.

“Wanna know a fun thing about this form?” The Shape-shifter asked him. Stan would have said something to the effect of ‘shove it you oversized ugly lump of play dough’ but he could barely breathe or concentrate to say much of anything. “If you look into its eyes you can see your worst nightmare. I’ve been  _dying_  to try this out,” it continued, mouth grinning and full of sharp teeth.   
“And you’ll be my first experiment,” it continued gleefully. “Now look at me, Stan.”

  
_Like HELL_ , Stan thought, still desperately gasping to fill his lungs with air, Stan turned, body straining away from the monster  
“ _LOOK AT ME_ ,” It hissed again, this time grabbing his face between its clawed meaty paws and forcing his face forward. Before Stan could think to close his eyes, or struggle, their eyes locked and he couldn’t pull himself away. Something was happening, it felt like a dark hand was probing inside his brain, throwing open doors to even his most private fears…

  
_Jokes on you… my worst nightmare was already in the process of happening_. It didn’t take a supernatural creature for him to imagine his grandson dead on the ground.

Then suddenly, the pressure that was squeezing the air out of him was gone, as was those probing fingers in his mind. Stan’s chest heaved painfully. He sucked in a shuddering breath that sounded closer to a sob then he was willing to admit to himself. The Shape-shifter reared back, a deafening scream that sent the debris from the cave ceiling showering down at them. Dipper stood there, his face contorted with pain and anger, and the ax buried in the back of its head.

  
“Get away from him,” Dipper cried, and struck again, green blood splattering his face. “D-Dipper,” Stan managed to gasp. He tried to stand but failed miserably, falling back to the cave floor. Not only his arm was broken, but it felt like the thing had done a number to his ribs. The monster let out a roar of pain, pulling out the ax, and towered over the boy, ready to strike, but Dipper was still holding his ground, eyes angry and defiant. “NO!” Stanley shouted in terror.

  
Then he flinched as bright blue lit up his vision and he felt something singe his hair. Stanley turned to the best of his ability to see his brother, aiming the gun expertly right at the Shape-shifter. He was panting and sweat beaded from his forehead, but his gaze and aim were steady. 

  
“Leave them alone,” Stanford commanded, his deep voice echoing off the cave walls. “You deal with me.”   
“Finally,” the Shape-shifter said, almost trembling with eagerness.

   
Both man and beast threw themselves at each other. Stanley crawled toward Dipper, want to shield him from the violence unfolding behind them. Dipper was already scrambling toward Stan, tears pouring down his face.

“Stan,” he sobbed. Stan held out his one good arm as Dipper all but tackled him, rocking the old man back. “Ooh! Ow, ow, ow, easy kid,” Stan murmured, ruffling the kid’s hair. “S-Sorry, but we should move,” Dipper swallowed nervously, hastily wiping his eyes. “Agreed,” Stanley muttered. He and Dipper slowly backed to the cave wall, trying to keep away from the fight. Stanley couldn’t exactly run a race with the condition he was in, and Dipper stopped and waited for him when he would pause and clutch his rib or arm in pain. The hellish noises from the battle rang loud in their ears. Dipper’s eyes were as big as saucers, and Stan felt him trembling. He gently tugged the boy’s face onto his shoulder.

“Don’t look, kid,” was all he told him. 

  
Stanley watched though. His brother had somehow become an excellent fighter in his years in the portal, and was able to dodge and feign attacks in his old age that would leave most professional boxers envious. The multiple injuries inflicted upon the Shape-shifter were finally taking a toll. The monster was slower, its attacks becoming sloppier, and it seemed confused by how fast Stanford evaded attacks.

Then his brother did something that Stanley was not expecting. He suddenly plunged his entire arm into the Shape-shifter’s chest. It screamed and writhed, trying to throw Stanford off, but he hung fast, his face grim and determined. Stanford grunted, and suddenly yanked his arm back. The Shape-shifter let out a final horrific scream and spasmed. Stanley wasn’t sure but he thought he saw an apology on his brother’s lips. The Shape-shifter let out a death rattle and then fell still.

Stanford panted, his body covered in green blood and gore, and blinked rapidly as if in shock. In his hand was some sort of stone, the same greenish color, dripping slowly in his hand. Stanley realized his brother had yanked out the things heart.

  
“Is it over,” came a small voice from his shoulder. Stanley looked down at his grandson. “Yeah, Dip.” Dipper was still trembling violently. Stanley sighed and using his good arm, pulled Dipper to his body, trying to hold him as gently as he could, but simultaneously had the boy as near to himself as his injuries would allow. He didn’t really care if everything in his old aching body was hurting. All he wanted to do was hold that precious kid as close as he could, trying to reassure himself that he was alive and breathing. 

  
“S-Stan… you almost… you could’ve….” Dipper’s voice broke again, and sobs wracked his small body. Dipper clutched his grandfather harder, and suddenly, the slime and dirt didn’t matter as much. Dipper finally felt safe, for the first time in a long time.

“I could say the same for you,” Stan chuckled, feeling the painful lump in his throat, his eyes watering with the torrent of emotion going through him. “Don’t… run off like that, I was so scared…” he trailed off. “God, I’m so sorry Dipper… I couldn’t protect….”

“No, I’m sorry,” Dipper cried. “I’m the one who put you in danger… W-What if the last time I saw you we were h-having that stupid fight…”  
“We’ll talk about this more later,” Stan said softly, rubbing Dipper’s shoulder. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Dipper looked up at him, eyes brimming with tears, and began to cry into Stan’s shoulder again. Stan took to rocking back and forth slightly and rubbing the kid’s back in a poor attempt to comfort him, his tired head resting on Dipper’s. The kid cried into his torn suit, the only noise in the cave echoing from the walls. Stanley was silent, eyes old and tired, his weary hands gently brushing back Dipper’s sweat-damp hair. Finally, Dipper fell silent, but he still held onto the older man, and Stan didn’t make any movement to try and pry him off.

  
After a few minutes, Dipper was trying to wipe his eyes and nose, and ended up using Stanley’s suit. 

  
“Kid, don’t use my suit as a tissue box!”

  
“It’s already ruined.”

  
“Fair point.”

  
Dipper suddenly froze and stared at Stanford, as if he had forgotten the other man in the room who had saved them. He was still standing silently a few feet away, watching them with an unreadable expression. He seemed to know Stanley and his grandson needed some time with one another, so he was keeping his distance. Dipper swallowed and wondered if Stanford would yell at him for taking the journals, running off, nearly getting them killed, and he would totally deserve every bit of anger. 

  
But he looked at Dipper, and for the first time since he had entered the room, Stanford’s eyes softened. He slung the gun over his shoulder, walked toward them and fell to his knees in front of them. He reached out a hand and gently placed it on the side of Dipper’s face. Dipper stared up at him somewhat dazedly.  

  
“I’m sorry, Dipper,” he said, sighing and looked down awkwardly. “Oh dear, I’m not good at this sort of thing… but I was oblivious to what you thought of me… Lee had to knock some reason into me,” he said nudging his brother. Stanley rolled his eyes but grinned. “I…shouldn’t have been so dismissive. And while running around down here was  _beyond_  idiotic, I’m glad you’re okay. And I hope… you’ll keep me as your mentor. I’ll do better. I promise.” 

  
Dipper blushed and rubbed the back of his head. “T-Thanks, Uncle Stan. And here…” he nervously took the journal from his jacket, which was miraculously unharmed. “This is yours. I shouldn’t have taken it.”

Stanford shook his head. “Keep it. From what I hear you’re quite the researcher. Who knows if you see something else you need to record.” Dipper’s face lit up and he clutched the book to his chest. “Wow, thanks! I won’t let you down.” 

  
Stanford winked at him. “I know you won’t, Dipper.”

  
Dipper finally sat back from Stanley and wiped his face with his arm, smearing a number of substances together he’d rather not think about. 

  
“…So how are we gonna get out of here?” he finally asked, glancing around the cave. 

  
Stanley glanced at his brother. “Well, not to worry,” he said forcing lightness into his tone. “I’m sure ol’ Ford knows the way out of here. He and his genius brain can save us. But also your fighting skills can give even me a run for the money, that was awesome back there, Ford! You should take up boxing! Just like old times, huh? ” 

  
“Yes, I suppose,” Stanford said, waving a hand dismissively. “What are we waiting for, the sooner we’re back the better.”

“Okay then, let’s get outta here,” Stan announced. He tried to stand up, but ended up sprawled back on the ground, clutching his side in pain. He was no stranger to broken bones, especially in his years of boxing, but most of them have never been this severe. 

  
“Ow, OW, SON OF A BITCH,” Stan hissed, too in pain to censor himself in front of the kid. 

  
“Stan,” Dipper said in distress, “Don’t move, you probably have some broken bones.” 

  
Stanford knelt down, mouth pressed in a thin line. “He’ll have to move to get back. He can lean on me, and that will hopefully be enough.” Stanford began to rip some fabric from his coat. 

  
“Yeah, well, be careful,” Stanley grumbled and flinched, as Stanford made him a makeshift arm sling. “Treat me like I’m Ma’s delicate china.”   
Stanford gently slung his brother’s good arm over his shoulder, as he and Dipper helped him stand up. “Please, with Ma’s china, I would be ten times more careful.” 

  
“Hah! Ow. So would I though.” They slowly limped their way to the exit, Dipper kept his eyes focused ahead, and although a shiver ran down his back, he was determined not to look back on what remained of the Shape-shifter. Dipper had a lot of questions for Stanford about some of the things the Shape-shifter spoke about, but he would have to wait to ask him.  In the meantime, he was concentrating on helping make sure Stanley didn’t fall over. After traveling for a little while, Dipper glanced up at Stanley.  

  
“Hey, Grun…Grandpa Stan?” Dipper asked. Stanford was listening, but stared at the wall and pretended it was more interesting. 

  
“You can call me what you want, Dipper. It doesn't make a difference to me,” Stanley responded, eyes fixed ahead of him. 

  
Dipper smiled a little. “Okay. Um, thanks…for saving me… and for everything else back there…” Dipper told him.

  
“Don’t mention it, kid,” Stanley didn’t say anything else. Dipper couldn’t see his face, but could sense him smiling in the darkness. 

-

  
When they got back, Mabel was nearly beside herself with worry. It took Soos and Wendy to hold her back from tackling her three family members and worsening their injuries. Wendy had explained that the three of them were about to go out after them, when they saw them finally approaching. Mabel took one look at her brother and grandfather’s injuries and nearly burst into tears.

Stanford told everybody but  Soos  to leave, who he asked to stay and help tend to his brother’s injuries. When they wouldn’t go, he eventually began barking orders and ranting about the time in Dimension 62.1 he spent tending to his own grisly injuries. This seemed to do the trick and made everyone leave. 

  
Dipper and Mabel sat on boxes marked with various years in the dingy storage room. Mabel swung her legs and was oddly silent. Since Dipper had gotten back, she hadn’t let go of his shirt. Dipper glanced over and smiled encouragingly at her, taking her hand.   
“I’m sure Stan is fine,” Dipper reassured. “He’s made of strong stuff.”

“Yeah,” Wendy chimed in, trying to cheer Mabel up. “I don’t think there is anyone as annoyingly stubborn as him. He’ll be fine, man.” 

  
They all looked up as Soos poked his head in the door. “Uh, if the twins wanna see him now they can. We’re all done fixing him up,”

“Is he okay?” Mabel asked, worry sparkling in her brown eyes. 

  
Soos nodded and smiled at her. “Don’t worry, dawg, he’s fine. Just a little tired, but I don’t blame him, after having a monster fight like that, whoooo!” Soos shook his head and chuckled. “Come on dudes, he wanted to talk to you.” He motioned for the twins. Dipper and Mabel looked at each other questioningly and followed Soos. 

  
Stan was laying on the bed, his arm now secured in a cast and sling. His shirt had been removed, and Dipper winced at the angry dark bruise on his ribcage. It ran down his side and disappeared under a bandage. Mabel must have seen it too because Dipper heard a sniffle. 

  
“Stan… doesn’t that hurt?” Dipper asked, gesturing to the wound and wincing. Stanley looked up at them and smiled slightly. “Well, yeah. I guess I’m jus’ good at handling pain.” Dipper and Mabel were not reassured by these words.

“Ah, come on. Don’t worry about me. My brother’s seeing if he could find some pain meds lying around that aren’t expired,” Stanley shook his head. “This bunker is made of crazy, but he really had the stuff to patch me up. I can’t really do much of anything right now though.”

  
“So…what did you want to talk to us about?” Mabel chimed in.

  
“Oh. That.” Stan sighed and looked back at the ceiling. “I wanted to… say I’m sorry,” he finally admitted. “I know this hasn’t been easy on you… knowing that I’m your real grandfather…that I’ve been lying to the family. I never wanted to put either of you through that.”  
“Well… it wasn’t fair how I treated you,” Dipper said, staring at the ground shamefully. 

  
Stan shook his head. “No. You had every right to be mad. And… however your dad reacts to this, he had every right to.” Stan’s voice had gone distant.

  
Dipper and Mabel stared at each other and looked back at Stan. In some ways this would be even more difficult for their father. His dad was dead for years, and suddenly came back to life? That wouldn’t go over smoothly. 

  
Stan’s eyes stared straight upwards, fixated on the dark ceiling. “I should’ve sent you home once you two started talking about supernatural things… hell, I should’ve never let you two come here in the first place.” His voice was distant, as if he was talking to them from a dream.

  
“Don’t say that,” Mabel gasped, tears springing to her eyes. 

  
“I was just being selfish, I guess. I was lonely, and wanted to see my grandkids. And when I realized that the portal could be activated while you were here…. I knew it was dangerous for you two. But I still didn’t send you home because I thought maybe once Stanford came back, we would all be a family again, that everything would be okay… you guys, your parents…” His speech became more halting, more broken. “I would be able to see my son… and be his father again…” His voice faded into silence and he blinked up at the ceiling. 

  
Mabel and Dipper stared at Stan in silence. Mabel had tears running down her pudgy cheeks, and she slowly leaned forward and hugged Stan, burying her face in his chest. He closed his eyes, his good arm wrapping around her, large hand resting gently on her back.  Dipper  perched on the bed next to them, blinking back his own tears and placed his hand on Stan’s shoulder.

  
“I’m glad you didn’t send us back,” Dipper told him softly. Mabel nodded and continued. “Because we would have never gotten to know you. We love you, grandpa.”

  
The elderly man’s face contorted with a myriad of emotions, and he breathed heavily through his nose. “I love you too,” he finally answered in a strangled voice.  They stayed where they were for a few moments in silence. Then Stanley sniffed loudly, and ruffled Mabel’s hair.

“C-Come on now, that’s enough mushy stuff for a lifetime. I’m rarin’ to get out of here… being underground this long gives me the heebie jeebies!”

  
“Grandpa, you can’t get up,” Mabel pouted, clinging to him like a koala. “Your arm is still broken!”

  
Stanley rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, it’s not like I’ve never had a broken bone before… say, did I tell you kids about my best fight?”  
“A boxing match?” Dipper asked excitedly. “That’s so cool!”

  
“Yeah, well let me tell you, it was down to the last round…”  

  
Stanford entered the room, a small pill bottle in his hand. “Ah, yes, the fight of '64, or the one you never shut up about…”

   
“I’ll shut YOU up!” 

-

END

 


End file.
